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“You’re twenty-six,” I told him. “What comes after this? Where do you go? Do you suddenly grow up?” I searched his eyes. “If it hasn’t happened by now, it’s not going to. You do you, and I’ll do me.”
He stepped in, looking down at me. “I hear you’re making dinner,” was all he replied with. “We’re hungry now. Go cook.”
I flashed a glare. Excuse me?
I shoved him in the chest, pushing him back.
I’m not serving you.
I’m not sitting at your table.
You can go and screw up your life without a care.
And also…
“You gave that sleazebag my underwear,” I said.
You son of a bitch.
A grin teased the corners of his mouth, but he simply turned back to me, holding back his smile.
“But then you didn’t need them, right?” I taunted, calming my voice. “Still have my pink ones from after Homecoming? Have you used them a lot, or did you just lube up with your own tears over the years?”
He crouched down and got in my face with his eyes on fire. “What makes you think there weren’t lots of hot, wet panties over the years?”
Spinning around, he left, and I burned a hole in his back as he disappeared into the house.
Believe me, Will Grayson. I know exactly where you’ve been.
Emory
Nine Years Ago
“They have mac and cheese, burgers, turkey tetrazzini,” Erika Fane told some girl ahead of me in line, “and chicken pot pie today, but I’d recommend the chicken sandwiches. They’re good and spicy.”
No. They aren’t. The freshmen were the only ones who still hadn’t realized where those cramps in the middle of fifth period were coming from.
The other blonde who looked like she could be her sister—except Erika Fane didn’t have a sister—just stood there, not looking over the selections that Fane listed off.
“It all sounds fine,” she replied. “Whatever you recommend.”
Fane grabbed the chicken sandwich wrapped in foil and brought it to her. The other girl held out both hands, feeling for the item.
I narrowed my eyes, watching her. Slowly, and keeping her eyes focused ahead, she took the item and set it on her tray herself, albeit a little clumsy.
Like she couldn’t see.
Realization dawned. This was Winter Ashby. Bitchy Arion Ashby’s kid sister.
She was blind, I’d heard.
Well, hopefully, she was nicer than her sister. When did she start here? I rarely ate lunch and we weren’t in the same classes, so I hadn’t seen her before.
They moved down the line, but not before an attack of conscience hit me and I plucked the chicken sandwich off her tray, quietly replacing it with a burger without her or Fane noticing. She wouldn’t know who to thank, but that was okay.
I grabbed a burger and a banana before reaching over and taking a bottle of water, adding it to my tray.
An arm came around me and took my necktie, threading it through long, beautiful fingers, veins bulging through the back of his hand.
